Friday, March 19, 2010

Schmoe Versus The Sniffles

I don't wish to alarm you, but the day we have long feared is here.

Okay, so everybody just remain calm. I need you to remain calm. It's going to be all right. If we stick together, we should be able to survive this.

Are you ready? Here goes...

Joe has a cold. And he took the day off from work because of it.

Yeah. I know. It's- Wait...what do you mean I'm the only one who feared this day? Well, if you lived here then you'd probably fear this day too.

If you have a man in the household who turns into a really big baby at the first sign of the sniffles, then you'll know what I mean. Joe is that stereotypical guy. He gets a cold and then he stretches out on the couch, underneath a couple of afghans and moans and groans and watches the financial news all day.

And while I want to say "You have a cold. Get yourself some DayQuil and a box of tissues and go to work!" I don't actually say anything. The one time I told him to suck it up and get over it (those may have been my exact words...hard to remember.), it turned out he had an abscess in his throat that required the doctor to stick a scalpel and a tube down there to drain out all the happy pus. So now I keep my mouth shut.

But it really is just a cold.

To make matters worse, Joe is currently on my shit list because he came home from work yesterday and said to me, "What did you do all day? Sleep?"

(Quasi Related Side Rant: Just because my chosen profession (and I refer to writing. Not precision folding. That is not my chosen profession. That is what keeps me in books and my dogs in cheeseburgers) has yet to earn me a single dime and has no easily discernible measure of progress (unless you're me) and often looks like me sitting at a computer and staring out my window, does not mean it's not work. Writing is work, people. Writing is hard work. At least if you want to do it right. Which I do. I want to write ass kicking books and time is required to reach such a goal. It took George R.R. Martin six years to write one chapter but you better believe that chapter kicked ass when he was finished.)

So where was I? Oh right, Joe's sick and I was already annoyed with him. I need to get out of the house before I put a pillow over his face but I also need to stay here and work. Not that my chances of getting that much work done are very good because Joe's moaning and groaning and the dogs are barking. As in pretty much nonstop.

Why are the dogs barking? Well, first of all, that's what they do. Second of all, we've had a veritable parade of neighborhood dogs in the yard this morning. Some I knew. One I didn't. They all stopped by to piss on the trees (among other bodily functions). I'm checking the Dog's Guide to New England to see if Big's tree somehow made the list of places to pee because no dog has missed it yet. Sad, isn't it, that Joe and I have to put up a fence, not to keep our dogs in but to keep other dogs out?

Right now, the dogs are locked in the office with me because every time they heard anything, they went charging at the front door, barking their heads off. Joe would moan and groan about their action and I would have to stop working to go and get them to shut the hell up. Being locked in the office helps curb their barking. One of them happens to be very gassy at the moment though so really, it's more of a punishment for me.

We'll be going out later (we, meaning me and the dogs) so we can do our errands. Library, post office and grocery store (with a list filled with items such as tomato soup, saltines, ginger ale and popsicles). We also have to stop off at the Store to check my schedule and pick up my last über pathetic paycheck.

At least I have plans all weekend long that take me not only out of the house but out of the state. This whole cold thing should really resolve itself by Monday, right? So, everything should be fine. Just as long as I stay away from pillows.

Have a great weekend, everybody.

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